Leaving Crimson Peak
by TapTapAlways
Summary: One detail changes - Carter Cushing consulting his lawyer (Ferguson) before trying to pay off the Sharpe siblings, said lawyer has a very imaginative wife - and the story takes a completely different turn. Now has a sequel called "Beyond Crimson Peak".
1. Chapter 1

_So, plotbunnies tend to bite me, and this was a particularly insistent little thing! I do not own "Crimson Peak", obviously, as my story is nothing like the film/book. At least I assume it is nothing like the book, I have yet to read it. I intend to, though._

 _TapTap_

Edith's father was a very astute man, and he did know every trick in the book. Not only that, but he had a lawyer, and - more alarmingly, for some - that lawyer had a _wife_.

She was in her late fifties, with several children and long experience of not only running a large household of children (and their children), but also of gently steering her husband's decisions to achieve the best outcome for everyone.

When Mr Cushing had an investigator look into the Sharpe siblings, and subsequently contacted her husband about what was found out, this very wise, dignified lady thus listened silently over her book, before cutting them off promptly when they spoke of "paying him off", "breaking her heart", and "making the man leave". That, she decided, wouldn't do at all.

Lucille Sharpe was mad. There was really no doubt about it, once they started to dig deeper. She had murdered her own mother; as well as at least two sister-in-laws as well. Her brother, well, he had done nothing, or at any rate very little, to stop her. It seemed she had used his guilt and familiar obligation against him with great efficiency.

As the case went to court, the elder sibling, Lucille Sharpe, raved and raged and returned allegations every time she was let loose to speak, but her brother, Sir Thomas, sitting with his fiance, Edith Cushing, he never said a word.

The doom on the siblings were diverse, but most thought it fair. The sister was to be locked away in an asylum, where she could never hurt anyone ever again, and her brother, he was to be declared legally incompetent and live under the watchful eyes of his wife, after marrying.

Lucille shouted when her own judgement was declared and even more so when her brother's was, but he himself still didn't speak a word. Edith, on the other hand, she did, speaking up on her fiance's behalf, saying it was unfair, not giving him any choice, and swatted her father's concerned hand away when he attempted to calm her.

Then, suddenly, there was another hand on the woman's back, and sir Thomas Sharpe looked onto her with what was obviously deep affection. And when he spoke, it was for the first time during the entire trial. "Edith, peace. It is alright. I get a second chance, which is more than any of her victim's got. I... I did not kill anyone, no, but I knew, at least partly, what she was doing. I could have tried to fight her, or fought _for_ her when we were children as she did for me.

I hope I can say I am no murderer; maybe eventually I will even believe it, and I sincerely hope I am not insane, so there is only the third option left. I must face the consequences of my actions; if I am so incapable of acting, then perhaps it is a fitting punishment. And with your strong will," he smiled now, only for her, "I must rely on you to want for both of us".

"You should not be forced into marrying..!" "That was in the past, Edith". He argued gently, still holding his wife-to-be tenderly to soothe her temper. "Lucille cannot hurt me now, nor you. She cannot force my hand again. Never again will she convince me to marry though I never loved either of them. I never chose anything, until I chose you, and now... if we can be together, then it is worth it. Please don't worry, Edith".

Those words brough back rage to Lucille Sharpe's face, and she made such a scene that it shocked almost everyone, including her little brother; and the lawyer's wife, she made sure the jury noticed that.


	2. Chapter 2

_I still do not own the story "Crimson Peak". No copyright infringement intended._

 _TapTap_

The scene at the trial made most people sure that Sir Thomas Sharpe did indeed love his wife-to-be, and that he was intending to be a good kept man, but just as many assumed that this intent would last for mere days before the young couple would suffer from the arrangement. Even Edith's father had his doubts, but Thomas' words at the trial had convinced Edith that he did want her, and she was determined. Her father wanted nothing but happiness for his daughter, after all, and so he agreed.

The wedding was to be small and private, but it was still a few weeks off, as he summoned Sir Thomas into his study one evening. Edith was writing in her room, and so it was a good time for this conversation. Well, for this series of threats, as it would be.

"Sir?" He would admit, he was rather impressed by the man so far. This enamored front, if it was a front - and he was not so sure of this as he once was - clearly came easily to the baronet, as he spent his time either tinkering with things around the house or accompanying Edith with whatever she saw fit to be doing. He was no idiot. Whether or not Sir Thomas was sincere, his presence made his daughter very happy, and his absence would break her heart. And he did not want that for anything.

"You are to continue with this," he replied, a second or so too late for it to sound fully natural. "With what, sir?" the young baronet looked at him with a slightly puzzled expression, but the builder did not let himself be swayed by this. "You play the part well, the charmed suitor, and you will continue to play it; the enamored fiance, the loving husband, or I will take all support from you and see you are sent to prison. Do I make myself understood?"

"I understand," came the soft reply, "but there really is no need. I am in love with Edith," and when the younger man turned to go, he could almost believe it, that - for the moment - he truly did feel what he said he did for Edith. She was easy to love, of course. But he had no doubt at all that it would change. No man could stand being owned by a woman, after all, no matter how much he loved her in the beginning.


	3. Chapter 3

_Reviews are appreciated. I still do not own "Crimson Peak" - I don't even own Tom Hiddleston. I for one am entirely fine with him owning himself, as a matter of fact._

 _TapTap_

Sir Thomas Sharpe was to be married for the fourth time in just over ten days time, and he perhaps reflected on this where he stood with one hand upon the windowsill in the well-appointed drawing room of the Cushing family, in the house which was now to be his home.

Maybe he thought of how different it was from his own home, Allerdale Hall, with its red clay and sinking manor house, with all its creaks and moans and shadows. Edith's father owned it now, of course, or Edith, ultimately, or she would; after the wedding.

Sir Thomas did not miss it. He listened to the scritch scratch of Edith's pencil - a beautiful thing gifted to her by her father - as she wrote on a new novel, and felt the warmth of the fire behind him. It was winter, already, but it was far less gruesome here, not a thing to be feared but merely some gentle snow and winds which had Edith smile and twirl with her scarwes flowing in every direction. Sir Thomas did not mind it, not the winter, not the winds, and certainly not anything which had Edith's eyes shining like that.

He did not sleep in the house, of course, that was not allowed until they were married, but he spent most waking hours here, tinkering with small mechanic things or watching the world outside. His favourite time during the day was when Edith was done with her projects and her writing and settled down to read in front of the fire, always in the large sofa stood there, and preferably leaning against his chest, instead of the cushions.

He liked the gentle way she was always touching him, always so peacefully, never rushing, like she had all the time in the world to simply run her fingertips across the skin of his hands, wrists and fingers. His sister had never been gentle; and she had certainly never allowed him the touch of anyone but her.

He knew that their separation was for the best; even he could feel how she was smothering him, by the end, but he had expected to miss her. Instead, all he felt was exhaustion. He guessed that maybe his will to do anything at all would return as the spring did, but for the moment, sitting there, playing the parth of a sofa cushion with internal heating for Edith was really all that he wanted. All that he _managed_. Maybe the court was right. Maybe he had no will of his own to speak of. No, that couldn't be right; he had wanted Edith, wanted her still, more than anything.

He would need a project in the future, something to do, with which to occupy his mind; he was not stupid, of all things, and he knew that, but for now, all he needed was here. Was _her_ , even. At the sound of his name, he turned towards the voice and smiled automatically.

Edith watched as Thomas willingly came over and sat with her. He seemed to have lost all initiative, deprived of his sister, but she held on to her resolve to wait. He didn't give her any impression of him being unhappy, merely dulled, and she knew, somehow she knew, that she had only to wait for him to return to her. She needed to be patient, that was all.

Not that this, on its simplest level, was very difficult or even half as time-consuming as it was in spirit, she reflected as she ran a hand over his shoulder, watching him to see his reaction. He leant back against the cushions just behind her, letting her settle against him without a word. Physically he was right beside her, always willing to oblige, to sit with her, speak to her, be touched by her, but his heart was clearly far away. His eyes were somewhat dulled, tired; but they were open, and that was enough - because he had said it was his way to close them to anything which made him uncomfortable.

Was his heart still in England? She considered, watching the slight motion of him breathing, looking out into space wordlessly as he was so often doing ever since the trial. Did he miss his family home, his sister, his inventions?

Tryingly, Edith took his hand, pulling it slightly towards her, not encountering any resistance on his part, but no recognition, no interaction, either. That grew increasingly common as the days passed, this lack of any reaction.

Edith found herself smiling in delight as she started to run her fingertips along the life-line in his palm and he unconsciously leant into the touch, tilting the palm upwards and opening his hand to her; still there though he was so hard to reach. As long as that was true, she'd be happy to wait. For him to return; wherever he had gone.

Edith relaxed against her favourite sofa cushion and read on, not leaving her literary world for hours. When she did, her father had returned home and was sitting before the fire, but Thomas was sitting in almost exactly the same position as she'd left him in, his hand still resting where she'd put it against her arm, as if he'd actually become a pillow or blanket. She didn't like it.

Thomas watched Edith tense as she left her book, and gently stroked a hand across her shoulder. "What's the matter, Edith?" "Are you alright?" He tilted his head a little, ignoring the fact that her father was watching them. "Yes. Just tired," he smiled reassuringly, not wanting that concerned expression in her eyes to spread. "What was your book about? Any nice ideas for the future?"

Mr Cushing studied the pair as his daughter put down her book, having sat there reading ever since he got home an hour earlier; her husband-to-be, that strange english aristocrat, sitting next to her staring into mid-air without a sound or movement all the while.

He kept watching as the englishman, whom he still wasn't all that fond of, as he didn't understand him, seemed to come alive at the sudden movement next to him, and the animation on Edith's face as she described something in response to a question he had asked.

It was a strange match, to be sure, and nobody could ever convince him that his daughter couldn't have done far better than this wary, rather useless baronet, but as long as she was satisfied with the choice, he would have to do, and that was the end of it.


	4. Chapter 4

_I do not own "Crimson Peak" even one bit. Except this fanfic plot bit, I suppose, but that's really all._

 _TapTap_

The wedding was wonderful. Edith shone happily in her beautiful dress, looking a picture, and her groom was elegant and smooth, letting his bride have all the attention like a true gentleman.

Out in the social setting of their wedding, Sir Thomas Sharpe's charm was out in full force once again, reminding his now father-in-law of the man they had seen before he had started the investigation, suave and charming, capable to charm just about anyone.

Edith was perfectly happy. She'd gotten Thomas, finally. Even better, it was Thomas who was acting perfectly like himself once more, looking at her with those bright, passionate, romantic deep blue eyes of his, no longer dulled by fatigue and disinterest in the world. It was a perfect day, but it was not to last.

It was the very next morning, waking together for the first time, which brought back reality into Edith's perfect dream. Thomas was lying beside her, wide awake, but in that same unmoving way she'd gotten to know far too well during the afternoons. Only now, it seemed his apathy didn't even wait for the morning to end before it settled in.

It became a habit. They'd rise together after Edith awoke, and she'd go about her day, while he spent most of the time before the fireplace, staring either into the flames or out into the room, looking at nothing at all, until he'd go to bed when she did, and it all started over.

He'd eat, and - presumably, anyway - sleep, and he'd sit with her like he used to during the weeks of their engagement, but he was even less present than he'd been before. The only time she truly felt like he was there with her, was during those moments, like after she'd put her book down every evening, when she'd touch him, try to talk to him. Then, he'd look at her, truly see her, and she'd know that he was still there.

Mr Cushing looked on with worry and disapproval as his son-in-law seemingly lost all will to live after getting married. He'd thought the younger man apathetic before, but this was simply ridiculous. Edith though, she seemed strangely contented with this way of things, so he did nothing about it, but that did not stop him from worrying.


	5. Chapter 5

_I do not own "Crimson Peak", not at all._

 _TapTap_

Edith and Thomas had been married for about two and a half months when their first Christmas was imminent. They stayed in, like Edith had used to do, rarely seen out in society in any context, and if Edith was seen out and about, she was alone.

Edith's father was very displeased with his daughter's married life, and disapproving of her husband, but as his daughter seemed content, he said nothing. It was true that her eyes shone in a way they had never used to when the englishman showed her any attention, but that was far too rare in Mr Cushing's eyes.

That was why he was so confused and surprised to meet her out Christmas shopping at her husband's arm, shining far more brightly than the late day winter sun managed to do. Himself, he was out walking with Alan, discussing the upcoming holidays.

Alan spotted the couple first, and they had time to watch the almost newlyweds for several moments before the baronet spotted them, nodding, his expression somewhat guarded. But there had been time enough for both of them to study him, when his focus was only on Edith; his expression warm and unusually vivid, as if the man had awoken for the day from the apathetic sleep the last few months had found him in.

Then the nobleman pointed them out for his wife, and let himself be dragged along to meet up with them without complaint.

Edith found herself worried when Thomas' expression grew guarded, but then he bent down to whisper in her ear, and the fear evaporated in the chill air. Thomas followed along willingly as she went to meet her father and Alan, staying right next to her, shielding her somewhat from the wind, just like he had done all afternoon.

He had remained unguarded, and his eyes unveiled, all morning, seemingly taking great delight in enjoying a day out with her. Perhaps, she speculated as she let go of her father again after giving him a hug in greeting, reclaiming Thomas's arm, Thomas missed properly spending time together as much as she did.

"I was surprised to see you out, dear," her father stated, giving her husband a searching glance as he spoke to her, but Edith decided not to notice. Her father was only trying to look out for her. It wasn't needed, of course, but just because she knew that, it wasn't certain that he did. "We are Christmas shopping!" she answered instead with all the enthusiasm she was feeling, smiling at Alan as well as her father, giving Thomas' arm a reassuring squeese, noticing him smiling at her from the corner of her eye.

"It is good to see you accompanying her, Sir Thomas," Alan noted, "it is rare to see you both out together". "Too rare. Perhaps as it grows warmer, it shall become a more common sight," Thomas replied, and not only Edith, but Alan, too, noted the slight hint of hope in the baronet's voice.


	6. Chapter 6

_I do not claim to own "Crimson Peak", obviously. I am not very chatty in these author's notes, am I?_

 _TapTap_

The four of them settled at a small café, as all three of the men were concerned Edith might be getting too cold (though she was perfectly fine) and she agreed partly because she found the idea nice, and partly because she wanted to get the three of them to talk.

With this aim in mind, she started several lines of conversation while they sat there in the cosy warmth; never relinquishing Thomas' hand, and then left for a while to the ladies' room, hoping they might just speak to each other for once.

"It is a pleasant day out, but cold," Alan started, though they had already gone over the weather at great length. "I was concerned at first," Thomas replied, some of his old charm coming through, though he was a little less animated than even the somewhat stilted english gentleman he had always been, "that Edith might be getting too cold, but you know her," he smiled, "very stubborn. As for myself, I am used to far more snow and cold, and much less warmth indoors," he finished with yet another charming smile, for a second looking just like his old self.

"I was surprised to see you accompanying my daughter, Sir Thomas," Mr Cushing replied a bit more sternly than the tone the two younger men employed. "Well, I could hardly let my wife brave the cold of the day alone," the baronet replied, more on his guard, and the older man replied gruffly, "precisely".

Alan was just about to cut into the conversation to ensure it was kept civil, when Sir Thomas put his foot down all on his own. "I am well aware, sir," his voice as firm and his tone just as set as it ever was, "that I am not what you'd wish for your daughter, but there is no use in trying to torment me with it now. You will only have her end up unhappy. Do you think it an accident, her leaving us here alone, to speak with each other? And with Doctor McMichael present, to keep us civil? She suffers from your coldness, _sir_ , so, whatever you choose to think of me, let it stay thoughts, and do not force her to worry about it _any more_!"

"You are the one who barely looks at her half of the time," the older man barked back, though both kept their voices down, another concession to the venue chosen by Edith for their conversation. "I am aware of that. I do not..."

Sir Thomas briefly closed his eyes, taking a breath before continuing, his eyes focused and decided now, "I have very little to give, at the moment. Between the guilt, the regret and the sheer _effort_ of digging out the small, evil hooks my sister left all over my heart and my spirit, I do not have much left in me, but all I can muster up to give, _is_ for Edith.

I want nothing else than her happiness, I _will_ make her happy, and no one can regret more than I how ill equipped I am for such a quest at the moment," his eyes still blazing, he added one more thing, voice softening as he spoke. "Luckily, Edith understands my preoccupation, though she does not like it. I hope that as the spring nears, I will feel more up to giving her everything she deserves".

As Edith returned a few minutes later, she was satisfied to see the air having been cleared somewhat, and Thomas was still meeting the eyes of Alan, whom he spoke with, her father watching the two younger men with a thoughtful expression, broken by a smile as his daughter returned. Perhaps, everything would be perfect in the end, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

_Another chapter, yay! I do not own Crimson Peak. Nope._

 _TapTap_

At Christmas eve, Edith found herself happily ensconced in her favourite reading spot, an unusually awake and aware Thomas at her side, playing with her hair without needing any prompting to make him come out of his musings. She had been frightened, after their day out - lovely as it was - that he'd fall more deeply into his depression (or whatever it could be said to be) after the effort, but to the contrary, he seemed more ready to participate than she had seen him in months.

Her father was still highly guarded when it came to her husband, but he was no longer outright rude, and more often than not acted politely towards him now. In return, Thomas seemed to make an effort to readily speak when spoken to.

It was on Christmas morning, Edith found herself awakening alone in bed for the first time since she were married. Thomas always awoke hours earlier than she did, but he never moved before she rose, spending the time staring at nothing in a worrying way instead.

This morning, however, she spotted him over at her desk, preoccupied with mending the little trinkets she kept in a desk drawer, which were in need of repair. She had broken a favourite pen the previous evening, and she hadn't been aware Thomas was paying any heed when she spoke out loud about it when she was settling into bed the day before. Clearly, he had been. She sometimes had a feeling that he was always listening, whatever she spoke of.

She rose with a smile on her face, coming over to kiss his neck, crowding close to see what he was working on. As ever, he leant into her touches, seemingly more eager to do so the softer they were, and explained without prompting what had been amiss with what he was currently fixing, happily lost in his work, but not so much so that he was unaware of his surroundings.

He seemed at peace, to her, and genuinely happy in a way that wasn't entirely unfamiliar to her, though it usually came in mere glimpses, while this was a more outright, full emotion. It made her happy just to see him like that.

After a minute or so, she left him to it, after making him promise to come join them at breakfast as soon as he was done, and went to dress for the day. Thomas had always been trying, she knew that, trying incredibly hard to be a good husband, but it seemed to come easier to him now, as if he finally had the energy to stay awake long enough to give her the attention he wanted to, like somebody who had been grievously ill but who finally had the strength to be up again.

She entered the breakfast room with a bright smile, her heart feeling lighter than it had done for months. "Good morning, dear. I see you're in a good mood today," her father greeted her with some surprise, but looking very pleased. "My pen broke yesterday," she replied with a big smile, puzzling him even further.

"We can get you another," her father replied after a little pause, clearly unable to connect why this should make her so pleased. "Thomas was sitting at my desk, mending it, when I woke up," she explained to him, and saw the dawn of understanding, and yet not, in her father's eyes. "He haven't been doing that for months, but he did today," before her father could respond, her husband entered the room, coming over to kiss her on the crown of her head with the words, "the pen could be fixed, darling, it was merely a small problem," and greeting her father with a nod and, "sir," before sitting down with them. It was the best Christmas gift she could have asked for.


	8. Chapter 8

_Is this all hopelessly OOC, or does it make sense? Or both? I still do not own "Crimson Peak"._

 _TapTap_

It was in the weeks after Christmas, that Edith's father got a visit from one of the doctors working at the asylum where Lucille Sharpe had been confined. After having been invited in and offered a seat in his study, the man cleared his throat and got to the point.

"As a few months have passed, we are evaluating the Sharpe siblings; just to be on the safe side. The sister has been enormously violent ever since she was admitted. Well past the point of us having to confine her to a solitary cell for the safety of others. I trust her brother has made no such attempts?"

"No, he is not doing much of anything, though my daughter seems happy, so there's that," the building master replied gruffly. "I have seen no aggression in the man, not at any time, or I wouldn't have allowed him anywhere near my daughter". "Understandable, sir," the doctor nodded, and they spoke for a few moments more before going into the drawing room, where Sir Thomas was sitting next to a reading Edith, playfully shifting her hair, a new habit of his which his wife approved of very much.

"Father," hearing movement in the room, Edith put a mark in her book, an intriguing little puzzle which Thomas had made, and looked up. "Edith, this is doctor Johnson, doctor Johnson, this is my daughter, Edith," as an afterthough, he added, "and her husband, Sir Thomas Sharpe". "Lady Edith," the doctor bowed slightly, and then nodded to her husband, "Sir Thomas. I am here on a rutine errand; my superiors wishes for an evaluation after the trial, as Lucille Sharpe has been violent of late".

Thomas was visibly restraining himself somehow, perhaps from being upset, perhaps from an errant wish to keep his sister safe. "Is she well?" "Reasonably so, sir, she has not been hurt, but she needs be kept in isolation. If you do not mind, sir, I would want a moment in private with your wife".

"That's not needed," Edith argued, "there's nothing to speak to me about which Thomas cannot hear". "Actually, there probably is. The further I am kept from my sister, the better for you, I should think," the baronet decided softly, rising and bending down to give his wife's head an affectionate kiss. "I shall be back momentarily. Gentlemen," and with that, he left the room, closing the door softly.

Edith looked back to the doctor and her father rather grimly, with all her stubborn determination, as her husband left. A moment later, her father excused himself as well, to leave the doctor to speak in peace with his daughter.

"I do not mean to upset you, my lady," the doctor started carefully, watching the woman in front of him. "We merely wanted to make entirely sure that everything is fine. You are well, I trust?" "Yes, I am perfectly well," Edith sighed.

She said little else during their short interview, but what she did say convinced the doctor that she was not only an intensely willstrong woman, but very much in love, and very protective of her husband. There was nothing to worry about here. No, they could safely focus on Lucille Sharpe, who was clearly the dangerous one out of the two siblings.


	9. Chapter 9

_So, it kinda goes without saying, but when I am describing Thomas' voice in this chapter, it is the way the character sounds in the film in similar situations. Warning: sensitive persons may find themselves with an overwhelming desire to play in the snow with Tom Hiddleston after reading this chapter. Don't say I didn't warn you! I am not the owner of "Crimson Peak"._

 _TapTap_

As early January came with even more snow, Edith found long walks very hard to resist, and Thomas managed to persuade himself to accompanying her on two of them within the first week after Christmas. He found himself enjoying the fresh air, and like Edith, enjoyed the opportunity to play with the snow in their garden.

One afternoon, Mr Cushing came home early from the office, accompanied by Alan, to find them out in the garden at the back of the house, engaged in a playful snowball fight. Well, Edith, stubborn as she was, was clearly determined to win, while her husband seemed content to let her, tossing off a few expertly made but soft snowballs and allowing her to almost bury him in the snow.

It seemed the englishman was not even remotely affected by the cold, the two men noted as they watched from behind the glass doors inside the house, each sipping a brandy, and it was Edith who eventually started to look cold, despite it being her husband and not her who was covered in snow.

Mr Cushing started to consider opening the doors and trying to convince his daughter to come back inside, when her husband suddenly whispered something into her ear, only to a moment later scoop her up into his arms and carry a laughing Edith towards the house.

A few minutes later, the aristocrat entered the lounge where they stood, having brushed the snow from his hair and changed the items of clothing where the snow had melted, leaving him wet, and now looked as elegant as ever.

"Mr Cushing, Doctor McMichael". "Lord Sharpe," Alan nodded in greeting, noting after a second, "Edith looked happy". The nobleman's eyes grew warm and soft at the mention of his wife. "She does. She enjoys the snow". He smiled, his voice dark and deep in a pleasant way as he continued, "though she gets quite competitive. I am lucky that it is nowhere near as cold here as my previous winters were".

Mr Cushing said nothing, but he poured another glass of brandy, handing it over to Sir Thomas, and that was probably a gesture of more acceptance than any words could be. When Edith entered the lounge overlooking the back garden they were all sitting together, speaking in a relaxed manner about inventions; Alan and her father in comfortable armchairs and her husband in the sofa, giving her plenty of space to sit with him.

A pitcher of hot cocoa stood on the table awaiting her, clearly ordered by her father, as it was just like him to worry about her taking a chill. It, and a convenient cup, was placed neatly within reach from the spot on the sofa next to Thomas, in a move of nothing short of acceptance. Could it be, that her father had finally started to approve of her husband?

As the dark started to settle, her father and husband got into a very animated conversation about building, which had them both deeply focused, hearing nothing else. Alan smiled at her, as they watched their exchange. "They seem to be getting along well. Your englishman seems more at home now. I was worried about you last year". "This has all been very hard on Thomas," Edith responded, her gaze on her husband nothing short of loving. "He has just started to come out of his shell again. It is like he has been very ill, and is only just gathering strength enough to take part in life again".

"That makes sense I guess," Alan watched the girl who was both a second sister to him as well as his best friend, taking note of her still animated eyes after the game in the garden earlier. "He seems better suited to join you in the snow than I ever was - I thought you would bury him there for a while".

Edith laughed, looking over at two of the men she loved most of all, all of her family gathered right here in this room, and nodded. "I might have been getting a bit overeager," she admitted, her eyes shining as she looked back at Alan, "but Thomas doesn't seem to have minded". "No," the opthamologist reassured her warmly, happy to see her so happy. "I think he enjoyed it almost as much as you did. The man must be physically incapable of freezing!"

"Jealous?" Edith teased him, her laughter enough to finally make the builder and the engineer stop their designing for the night and remember where they were, but they would continue the conversation at several later dates, never as cold to one another again as they had been before Mr Cushing came home to see his daughter delightedly tossing snow onto her patient husband in their back garden.


	10. Chapter 10

_I have absolutely nothing to say in this author's note. Nope. As ever, I do not own "Crimson Peak" and no copyright infringement is intended._

 _TapTap_

As the sun came more and more into their lives, Thomas Sharpe seemed increasingly ready to interact with the world again. Tinkering with different projects while Edith wrote, and more than capable to be charming in company, where he and Edith were finally found again. He still spent much time just sitting, staring at something unseen by others, but it was no longer obvious to find him that way.

Edith, though delighted, seemed strangely unsurprised by this development, Mr Cushing noted for himself, as if she'd known all along that it'd happen eventually. Maybe, her father conceeded, she had.

On the first day of spring, Mrs McMichael held another ball, once again asking Thomas to demonstrate european dancing, but mostly leaving him in peace now that he wasn't an eligible bachelor any longer. She was just a bit touchy about the whole thing still, to the great amusement of both Mr Cushing and her son, standing together just like last year as the floor filled with dancers.

Edith, who found she greatly enjoyed dancing when she had Thomas to do it with, was on the floor with her husband a large portion of the evening, but she also danced several dances with both her father and with Alan, while Thomas dutifully explained more european dance differences, clearly proving himself still capable of charming just about anyone.

There had been a fair amount of speculation, not to say outright rumours, concerning the happiness (or more often lack of happiness) of the marriage between the charming baronet and the rich young woman, and many eyes were watching the pair as they moved across the dance floor that night.

By the end of the evening, however, next to no one believed a word of the rumours. Mr Cushing's young daughter was clearly head over heels in love with her charming, handsome husband (she wasn't alone in that, either) and contrary to what some had thought, the more benevolent gossips watching him decided that perhaps he was just as enamoured, too, while the less generous ones simply held their tongues.

This stopped no one from still being intrigued to see the couple together at the dinner her father held a few weeks later, of course, and the few lucky invited were intrigued to see how she held his constant attention, and how the pair were close to one another every chance they got.

It was towards the end of the evening, that Edith's father saw his son-in-law standing alone, looking out of a window. He wondered if the younger man had lost his concentration again, though he knew better now than simply tapping the man on his shoulder, like he had once tried. The harsh, sudden movement had made the baronet start and had made the older man decide to leave getting his attention to his daughter, who always managed to do so effortlessly.

This time, however, Thomas Sharpe turned towards his father-in-law on his own accord, nodding with a pleasant smile, confiding in a low voice. "For a while there I thought I'd never be able to be out socially again without great effort, but it seems to have passed. Even Edith seems to enjoy herself tonight".

Looking over to where she was, speaking to Alan, Mr Cushing smiled, nodding in agreement with the nobleman he was coming to see more and more as an ally, the more he understood that the younger man really did love his daughter, and wanted to make her happy as much as he himself did. "Yes, and she looks beautiful tonight, don't you think?". The baronet made a softly amused sound, and nodded, his voice low and emotional, just like the older man's were. "She's always beautiful".


	11. Chapter 11

_So, this is the last chapter, I hope you have enjoyed it! I want to thank everybody who has reviewed, you've been great readers; and remind you that there is a sequel out now! :)_

 _As always, "Crimson Peak" is not mine, which means I do not own it, and I do not claim to. This entire story is written just for fun, there's no money involved, and I mean no copyright infringement in any way._

 _TapTap_

As summer came around, they returned for the first time to the park where Edith and Lucille had been watching the butterflies in the autumn, this time to have a picnic. Besides Edith's father, Alan had joined them for the day, along with his mother and sister. Fergusson and his wife accompanied them as well.

It was a beautiful day, birds singing, sun shining and Mrs McMichael subdued enough not to be a nusance, and Edith watched through the corner of her eye how Thomas read through some pages in her next novel while Alan, her father and his laywer argued good-naturedly about something, as the lawyer's wife gave her a knowing smile she was not entirely sure how to interpret.

"Your story turned out alright, in the end then, dear," the woman noted kindly, and Edith found herself smiling spontaneously before nodding, seeing how the older woman looked over at Thomas. She was not sure if she meant their own story, or the pages he was holding. As the older woman seemed to expect no reply, maybe it was both.

Soon enough, Edith's father and Alan needed to get back to work after their lunch hour, and the older pair excused themselves as well, making the two McMichael women take their leave too, leaving Edith alone with the birdsong, the flutter of the now very alive and well butterflies, and the steady breathing of her much beloved husband.

She did not notice that she had been lost in thought until she felt Thomas' hand on her arm, gently waking her from her thoughts for once, and was met by his smile. "This story is even better than the last one," he told her honestly, his smile making his eyes wrinkle charmingly, giving her a look that was utterly irresistable.

"I like your heroine," he continued, the genuine, adoring smile still making his eyes glitter and almost distracting her from his words. "She's got spirit". "She chose to be that way," she confided in him, "characters talk to you, they make choises". "Well I like her," he repeated with emphasis before finally giving a small laugh. "And I like how she marries an englishman, of course." "Well, she chose that too," she replied with a cheeky smile, and then she kissed him.


End file.
